All Flames Burn
by Owlmemaybe
Summary: Companion-fic to Healer on the ground. The story of Titus, from a young boy of the Desert Clan to the Flame Keeper of Heda Lexa. Warning: Violence and character death (Conclave...)


**A/N: This fic is set in the same universe as my other fic** ** _Healer on the ground_** **, but you don't need to read it to understand this first chapter. There will be another chapter later dealing with how Titus reacts to Clarke and the other sky people in Polis.**

 **Chapter 1: From sand to ashes**

Titus stopped and craned his neck to try and see the top of the Tower. He had heard stories about it, but he had never imagined that a man-made building could be so high. His parent's yurt was of average height, and his father could barely stand tall inside of it.

He raised a shaky hand to scratch the small hairs on top of his head. He would have to shave before meeting the legendary _Heda_. He could not dishonor his clan by appearing before the Commander in such a state. Even if he was about to renounce it.

He took a deep breath, squared his thin shoulders and strode forward with as much conviction as an eleven year-old boy could display. Hoping no one would try to forbid him entry in the Tower.

He had nowhere else to go, now.

His parents and brothers had been angry at his decision to go to Polis, and pledge his life to _Heda_. Legends of the Commander were known in the Desert, but the capitol was far away, and _Heda's_ actions had little consequences on their lives. Yes, trade had become easier since the previous _Heda_ had managed to sit down the leaders of _Ingranronakru_ and _Delfikru_ and cajole them into a non-aggression pact. But _Heda_ was usually too busy with the warring clans of the north to care about the Desert. So why should they send more than the _Natblidas_ to Polis. And even those were only sent because it was their best chance of surviving the Conclave.

But Titus had always been fascinated by the stories of the Flame and the Spirit. And he had always wanted to travel and discover the world beyond the dunes and the glass workshops of his Clan.

Three months ago, as winter neared its end, had been the ceremony during which the young boys and girls that had reached the age of ten since the previous spring chose the apprenticeship they would follow for the next five years. Titus had been one of the oldest, and everyone had expected him to apprentice with his father as a glass blower.

Perhaps he should have told his parents of his choice before the ceremony.

He remembered the heavy silence after he proudly announced that he would go to Polis to serve the Commander. The betrayal in his father's eyes – all his older brothers had become warriors, expecting him or his sister to follow in their father's footsteps. The incomprehension on his mother's face. The worry etched on his siblings' features.

But the choice made at the ceremony engaged the child's – future adult – honor, and could not be disavowed.

A week later, he had packed his things, exchanged one last hug with all his family, and followed the traders that had come from the Rock Line Clan.

It had taken him a whole three months to reach Polis.

No wonder his hair had grown so much.

The warriors at the entrance barely glanced at him as he passed the doors, obviously judging him harmless enough to allow in. Titus noticed a boy not much older than himself that was not quite dressed as a warrior and, taking a deep breath, addressed him.

''Er… Excuse me, I am from the Desert Clan and I have come to ask for an audience with the Commander.''

The boy stared at him for a few seconds, before replying in a kind voice. ''The Commander usually receives his guests during mornings, but since you have come from so far away, I am sure he will make time for you today. If not, you shall be given a room for the night and present your plea in the morning.''

Titus exhaled softly. He had had no idea of how one was supposed to apply to _Heda_ , since no one from his village ever had, and he had not had the time to inquire about it in other villages before his departure.

And the perspective of a warm bed after three month of traveling was also very appealing.

He continued in a shy voice. ''Can I… Is there anywhere I can shave? I cannot meet _Heda_ until I am decent.''

The other boy's smile widened. ''Follow me. I have enough time until my next lesson to show you to the common wash room.''

A couple hours later, Titus stood shakily before the doors that led to the Throne Room, his bag clutched tightly in his hands. What if _Heda_ refused him the right to serve the Flame? Would his parents welcome back a dishonored son?

The guards opened the doors and ushered him inside before he was ready. He almost stumbled as he entered the room and blushed. What would the Commander think of a boy that couldn't even walk straight on a flat surface?

He bowed, gaze trained on the ground to hide his embarrassment.

'' _Heda_. I am _Titus kom Sankru_. I have come to pledge my life to your service.''

He wanted to say that he believed in the legends that said the Spirit had sent _Heda_ to protect the people and repair the world broken by the foolishness of the Old World. He wanted to say that he had been fascinated by the stories of the Flame since he first heard them. He wanted to say that seeing the Great Flame atop the Tower had filled him with a warmth and a sense of purpose he had never felt in his father's workshop.

He stayed quiet.

''Rise, Titus.''

It was a young, masculine voice. Calm and powerful. _Heda's_ voice.

He looked up from the floor as he straightened his posture, taking his first look at the man he had traveled so far away from his home for.

The Commander was quite young, probably in his early twenties, but there were many scars visible on his arms. His eyes held a wisdom Titus had never seen in his oldest sibling – who was roughly the same age – or even in his father.

It was all the confirmation Titus could have needed that the Legends of the Flame were true. No one so young could hold so much strength and wisdom unless it was given by the Spirit.

A movement drew his eyes to the figure standing on the left of the Throne.

An older man was dressed in red and orange robes, a tattoo covering his right cheek and forehead. The _Fleimkeepa_.

 _Heda_ spoke, drawing Titus' attention back to him.

''It is rare for people from the Desert Clan to travel so far.'' The Commander looked him up and down. ''Are you an apprentice?'' He asked.

''I chose to come to you during my Choice Ceremony. To serve the Spirit, in whichever way you deem fit.''

The Commander tilted his head curiously. ''Is there a _natblida_ in your family?'' He inquired.

Titus shook his head, unsure of why that particular question was asked and what consequences either answer might have for him. But no nightblood had ever been born in his family – or even in his village – and he did not want to lie to _Heda_.

The Flame keeper and the Commander exchanged a long look that ended with a sharp nod from the older man.

''I accept your pledge, Titus. This Tower is now your home. You will be given a room and a few days to rest while I decide how best you may serve the Spirit. I or some of my advisers may come to interview you further, so that we give you the apprenticeship that will best suit your abilities. Your formal vow of service will take place when you receive your affectation.''

Titus nodded feverishly, relieved that _Heda_ had accepted him, a young boy from a stranger clan. As he followed a warrior down the corridors and stairs to his new room, they passed by a group of children climbing up to the upper levels of the Tower. The boy that had first helped him was amongst them and waved at Titus as he passed.

Titus blanched. He had not realized his guide had been a _natblida_.

A week passed, during which Titus was often asked to follow one of _Heda's_ advisers around the Tower. He had to answer a few random questions about what he had learned during his childhood in _Sankru_ , as well as why he had chosen to pledge his life to the Spirit.

One day, the Flame keeper himself sat with him and taught him a few words in Gonasleng, and even showed him how to form a few letters.

Finally, he was summoned back to the Throne Room. His palms were sweaty as he waited for _Heda_ to speak up and announced what he had decided for the young desert boy.

'' _Titus kom Sankru_. I first thought I might have you trained as an administrator to help organize the campaigns and the life of the Tower.''

He paused and glanced at the Flame keeper while Titus silently prayed the Spirit that _Heda's_ change of mind was not the consequence of some mistake he had made during the week.

''My Flame keeper, Donos, believes you have promise in a more demanding function. I will receive your vow today, and you will begin training as an apprentice _Fleimkeepa_. In a few weeks, Donos will decide whether you can officially receive the title. It is a difficult task, that does not suit many people. No one here will think any less of you if it turns out that it is not your right calling. If it is not, you shall be trained as an administrator.''

Titus felt his jaw drop. Never, even in his wildest dreams, had he imagined that he might become Flame keeper. He had always thought the choosing of the _Fleimkeepas_ was a process barely less mystical than when the Spirit chose the next _Heda_.

Speechless, he nodded.

Donos stepped forward and addressed him. ''You will remain in your current rooms for now, and follow me everywhere I go unless I tell you otherwise. Now, come and stand over here.'' He explained, pointing to a spot on the left and slightly behind the throne.

Thus began Titus' apprenticeship as _Fleimkeepa_.

Titus hurried from the _Natblidas_ quarters, where he had been teaching the youngest novitiates about the different clans customs and leaders. The lesson had lasted longer than intended, and he was now late to meet his master.

Donos had been teaching him the secrets of the Flame for five years, and the burden on the _Fleimkeepa's_ shoulders had become heavier two years ago when his fellow _Fleimkeepa_ had succumbed to an unexpected illness. Many in Polis had fallen ill as well, and it had been chaos for several weeks. Titus had started assuming more and more duties on his own, his master deeming that, in some matters, experience would be the best teacher.

It was common to have two or three Flame keepers at the same time, as it made it easier to both attend _Heda_ and teach the novitiates at the same time, and also ensured that the secrets of the Flame would not be lost if an accident occurred. Titus would probably remain an apprentice for a couple more year – perhaps three – and then Donos would probably keep an eye out for another promising child.

Right now, though, conflict had started again between Delphi and the Lake Clan, with Azgeda and Trikru as allies respectively. _Heda_ had gone to help the Lake People, because Delphi was the one who had crossed the frontier they had agreed upon a decade ago.

Which was a record, really. It was rare for a truce to last more than five years.

The Commander should have been back two days ago, and everyone in the Tower was tense. Titus knew that his master had gathered something from the Flame's sanctuary, in case they had to announce the Conclave.

Just as he finished the thought, he heard the blaring sound of a grave horn and his heart sank.

 _Heda_ was dead.

Donos was waiting for him in _Heda's_ chambers. When he entered, the Flame keeper wordlessly indicated that he was to stand on the other side of the bed. He did, staring at the young man lying on the bed. It was as if _Heda_ was asleep.

Except for the dark patch of blood that had dried on his chest.

He watched silently as his master turned over the body, cut the skin at the back of the neck with the ceremonial knife he had once shown him. Donos whispered a couple of words, and a small square slowly materialized in his hand.

''This, Titus, is the Flame. This is _Heda_. The body is only a vessel, and all the previous _Hedas'_ minds survive inside the Flame. It is our duty, as _Fleimkeepas_ , to protect the Flame and help _Heda_ achieve its purpose. You pledged your life to _Heda_ , regardless of the body. Your loyalty goes to the Flame, and no one else. Do you understand?''

Titus nodded. It was not the first time he heard the words, and they had always rang true in his mind, even at eleven years old.

He still couldn't help the sadness that filled his heart at the sight of the man who had welcomed in Polis, unmoving and covered in black blood.

There were five _natblidas_ old enough to enter the Conclave.

Rico, the first boy he had talked to upon entering the Tower all those years ago, was amongst them. He was eighteen, and the second oldest. The youngest one had turned eight barely a week before _Heda's_ passing.

Because they were an uneven number, Donos made them draw straws to determine who would not fight until the last duel.

It was the youngest boy. Titus, despite how much time he had spent with the novitiates, was impressed by how he stood tall and watched silently as people he considered his siblings started to kill each other before his eyes. Titus watched with him, forcing himself to remain as impassive as his master.

Until only Rico was left.

Until an eight year old rose to fight to the death a boy ten years older.

Until a tear-faced Rico plunged his sword in the belly of his young _natblida_ brother.

Until Donos announced Rico as the new Commander and escorted him out.

Until he was left alone in the bloody arena to prepare the bodies for cremation.

Until he could bend over and cry the children he had shared a classroom with for five years.

The new _Heda_ was unwell.

Donos had told Titus that the first few weeks were always difficult for _Heda_ , as he mourned his fellow novitiates and assumed his new, heavy responsibilities.

But six months later, Rico was not getting any better. In fact, he was getting worse.

Donos and Titus made sure the Commander was never alone with the novitiates, fearing the kind of damaged he might cause them during training if he slipped in another bloodthirsty crisis as he had done once. They had managed to restrain him, but not before he cut deeply the arm of one of the natblida girls.

Donos also had to review all the decisions made by _Heda_ , and the guards were under orders to check with either the Flame keeper or his apprentice before obeying the Commander's orders.

Everyone in the Tower knew Rico had gone mad and was unfit as _Heda_ , though no one dared to say it out loud.

A year after the Conclave, Titus could feel his faith in the Flame and the Spirit weakening. How could It chose a mad protector for Its people?

The blaring horn awoke him.

Quietly, he got up from his bed in the Flame keepers rooms and dressed with the orange robes his master had given him two months ago.

Though he had not yet received his marks as Flame keeper, he was no longer considered an apprentice.

 _Heda_ was dead, and Titus would perform the ritual for the first time, under the watchful gaze of Donos.

As he left his room, he wondered how _Heda_ had died. There had been no battle, and it was night. An assassin was a possibility. Or perhaps the Flame had killed its unworthy vessel, now that there was a Nightblood old enough to succeed him.

He climbed the stairs to _Heda's_ room, wondering if it was right for him to feel relief at the death of the Commander. If he was truly meant to become a _Fleimkeepa._

If the Flame deserved to be worshipped when it had allowed a mad man to lead the people of Polis and mediate between the clans.

He entered the room and, for the second time in his short life, saw an unmoving body covered in black blood lying on the furs.

'' _Heda_ killed himself.'' Donos said, his voice devoid of emotions.

As he performed the ritual to retrieve the Flame, he felt none of the sadness he had experienced with the previous Heda. Even though he had partially grown up with Rico and known him longer.

There was no one to mourn.

Rico had died two years ago in that arena, as an eight year old boy stained the sand black with blood.

Later, as he washed the body for the final prayers before it would be burned in the Great Flame, he finally payed attention to the wound.

It was a deep slash across his throat, that had opened the veins and arteries. A quick, almost painless death. Rico's right hand was covered in blood, a knife still held tightly in his fist.

Titus glanced at the impassive face of his master and continued his task without commenting the wound.

Even though he knew Rico was left-handed.

It was, ironically, the girl that Rico had wounded that became the new Commander. There was no Conclave, as she was the only _natblida_ old enough.

Twelve years passed under Ama's command. Twelve years of war, mediation, trade agreements and teaching.

Twelve years during which Titus officially became Flame keeper, and Donos slowly gave him all the responsibilities of the function. His old master died shortly before Ama convinced the clans to have permanent representatives in Polis.

Twelve years during which Titus saw how the Flame enhanced the qualities of his once pupil. Twelve years that restored his faith in the Spirit, convinced him that Ama was the Flame's real choice. She had simply been too young at the time of the Conclave.

He found a promising boy, _Luwo kom Louwodakru_ , who believed in _Heda's_ purpose as he had at ten years old. He started teaching him.

When Ama died in battle, Titus was happy to know that her mind was preserved in the Flame.

The Conclave was terrible.

All the _natblidas_ aged nine years or more entered it.

Titus had taught all of them since they came to Polis, either as an apprentice or as the official _Fleimkeepa_.

He had had too many duties to search for a partner and start a family of his own. The _natblidas_ were his children.

And he ordered them to kill each other as he watched, until only one – Nawel – remained.

He was glad he had Luwo to teach. It helped him focus on something other than the dozen bodies on the floor of the arena. He could not fall apart like Rico had. He could not let Nawel fail the Flame as Rico had.

Slowly, he resigned himself to the fact that Luwo was the only child he would never have to see dying.

Nawel was a good Commander. Like Ama.

More and more clans relied on _Heda's_ advice and judgement when conflicts occurred. More and more _sekens_ renounced their clans and came to Polis to pledge themselves as _Heda's_ warriors.

Two clans officially allied themselves with _Heda_ – the Boat People, who had always striven for peace and stayed away from wars, and the Rock Line, who had benefited a lot from the mediation on trade.

Peace seemed so close and yet so far. Titus sometimes felt like something was missing for it to be reached, but he could not figure out what.

Perhaps Luwo would.

The boy was simply brilliant. Sharp of mind, making words slice sharper than the sharpest dagger. Discreet when he wanted to gather information, and always smart when he analyzed what he had heard. Absolutely loyal to the Flame.

As a young boy, Titus would have probably been jealous of the many qualities of the boy, knowing he would become a better _Fleimkeepa_ than Titus himself could ever hope to be. But as he celebrated his thirty-fifth spring, he only felt pride for his apprentice.

One of the _natblida_ , a girl named Lexa, showed the same qualities. She was still very young, only recently arrived in Polis, but her intelligence was already obvious. He could not help but think that this duo of Commander and adviser would be able to achieve everything _Hedas_ had sought to accomplish for over eighty years.

A Flame keeper could not play favorites, though. Only the Spirit knew what was best.

Luwo was dead.

He had insisted to spend a few months in his home village, to improve his skills as a warrior in case he needed to accompany _Heda_ on the battlefield. Sparring with the novitiates could not replace battle experience.

Titus had been wary of the request at first, arguing that a Flame keeper was not a warrior. But Luwo's arguments were sound, as always.

And Titus knew the pain of being estranged from your own flesh and blood because of your choices. He had visited his siblings, once, only to learn his parents had died and none had thought to inform him. Their surprise at his choice to serve _Heda_ had slowly morphed into a bitter resentment.

He could not refuse his apprentice a chance to have the peace of mind that had been refused to him. This journey could improve more than just Luwo's skills in battle.

Luwo was dead.

Titus should not have allowed him to go. He should have sent more warriors with him.

His apprentice, his _child_ , was dead. He had failed to protect him. He had failed Luwo. He had failed the Flame, deprived It of one of Its best servants.

Luwo was dead.

He had lost the one child that was not supposed to die.

When Nawel died after holding the Flame for six years and the next Conclave started, Titus felt nothing.

There were no more tears in his body to shed. No more place in his heart for more pain.

He belonged only to the Flame. To the immortal Spirit that would guide all towards a better future.

Keru won the Conclave and ruled for over twelve years. With Ama, he was one of the longest-lived Commanders.

Two more clans allied with _Heda_ while he held the Flame. The Glowing Forest and the Plain Riders. Conflicts were more sparse, trade was improving.

It was not peace, though.

Sometimes, Titus wondered if they had lost all hopes of peace with Luwo.

There had been many boys and girls coming to serve the Commander. He had paid attention to each one. None had even half of Luwo's qualities.

None deserved to become Flame keeper.

When Keru died, it was Lexa who won the Conclave. He had hoped that she would, but knew Luna was a better fighter. The girl from the Boat People had fled after being forced to kill her brother. He was glad she abandoned. He did not want another Rico.

He was not as happy when Lexa claimed that Luna would not be killed for fleeing her duty to the Flame. But he would not go against a direct order from the new Commander.

He watched and advised as Lexa convinced almost all the remaining clans to join her small Coalition in less than two years. All the qualities he had always perceived in her and that reminded him so much of Luwo were enhanced by the Flame.

He observed, worried, as Lexa found love with a girl named Costia. Peace was within reach after decades of work. Feelings often led to bad decisions, and Lexa could not afford to make one now.

 _Azgeda_ , deprived of its usual way of acquiring goods by _Heda's_ army guarding the Coalition's borders, still refused to bow before the Commander. Its queen, Nia, had reigned for over twenty years and had always disapproved of _Hedas'_ interference in her affairs. She preferred to pay with blood than with goods.

But _Azgeda's_ army was no match against the other eleven clans. So she tried to break the one who lead the army. To force Lexa in an aggressive action that would betray all the words of peace she had professed for two years.

When a box arrived with Costia's head, Titus feared she had succeeded.

Lexa broke, but _Heda_ stood tall as she renewed her offer of peace to _Azgeda_.

Nia tried one last action, tricking her own son into attacking the Coalition's army, hoping Lexa would seize the opportunity to retaliate.

She did not, only banishing Prince Roan. She knew the real culprit was the queen, but the attack could not go unpunished and Nia was nothing if not clever in covering her traces.

Titus was proud of his _Heda_. He only wished his heart could commiserate with the girl that suffered as the Flame's vessel.

But his heart had dried up years ago, as flames engulfed Luwo's body.


End file.
